


Perfect

by Mottled_System



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, Begging, College, Dorms, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forehead Kisses, Gentle Kissing, Groping, Kissing, Missionary Position, Party, Partying, Past Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Vaginal Sex, past rory gilmore/dean forester, past rory gilmore/jess mariano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottled_System/pseuds/Mottled_System
Summary: Wherein Logan saves Rory from a rather awkward encounter with an ex, and she happily urges him to take her home.
Relationships: Rory Gilmore & Logan Huntzberger, Rory Gilmore/Logan Huntzberger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. A Perfect Kiss

His eyes scan over my body, wide with an expression I am, by now, familiar with, but can’t quite name. The moment his eyes find me, his jaw clenches slightly and he rubs his palms against his jeans. His eyes dart to one side, then the other, before finding me again.

“You, ah,” Jess says, his voice as dry as it always has been. “You look nice, Rory,”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling more than a little out of place. I can’t believe he’s come here again. I can’t  _ believe _ that Paris invited him to stay, so desperate for her stupid party to be a success, to live a normal life with her normal boyfriend who does like her and doesn’t ditch her and didn’t marry another girl. I take all of Jess in, quickly, and though he doesn’t look very different than he had the last time I’d seen him, and he doesn’t seem to feel any different himself, the energy between us certainly is.  _ I _ am. I look off to the side, wishing I could get away, go anywhere else.

I could. Paris would throw a fit.

“So do you,” I remember to add, though I’m not looking at him anymore. I see Marty off to the side, and his eyes meet mine; I give him a look, a look that says that I would rather be anywhere but here. He looks cornered and unsure; I hear Jess sigh and look to the side, clearly noticing my look that says I do not want to be here, in front of him, talking to him.

“Hey, Ace,” I hear- quite mercifully- from the other side. I turn to see Logan, but of course, I’d known it was him from the first syllable. He looks- good, as he always does, and I smile.

“Hi, Logan. Logan, this is Jess. Jess, this is-”

“Yeah,” Jess says, stretching, looking over his shoulder, bored and impassive and flakey, just like he’s always been. It bothers me more now than it ever has before. “That’s great,”

Logan’s charismatic smile shifts a bit, intrigued by this rude stranger, but before he can say something that would certainly piss Jess off, Jess looks back at me.

“I’m gonna…” He motions away with his thumbs, and by the time I manage to give a brief nod, he’s already sliding off, no doubt to disappear once more, just as abruptly as he’d come.

“He’s a charmer,” Logan announces, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, yeah,” I agree in a faux-chipper voice. “That’s just Jess.”

Logan appraises me anew. Maybe there was something in my voice. “Ex-boyfriend?”

I nearly choke on my watered-down bourbon, but hopefully pass it off as graceful. “Yep.”

Logan nods, seemingly amused. “You really seem to know how to pick ‘em, Ace,” he says good-naturedly. The memory of Dean ditching me at my grandparents’ house comes right back into mind…

The night Logan and his friends had been so nice to me, so nice to be around. It had been a really great night. I drink my drink and wonder why people drink bourbon. “Sure do.”

“Nice party you got here,” Logan says, looking around, and I know he doesn’t mean it, and that he intends for me to know that, and that it’s good natured.

I understand Logan a lot more than I’ve ever understood any other guy. I mean, it’s not always crystal clear, or anything, but it’s a big step up. “It’s not my party, it’s Paris’,” I correct.

“It’s your house,” he says. “That means you’re at least a co-host,”

“I reject that,” I say simply. He opens his mouth to retort, but satisfies himself with a grin and a gentle chuckle. I’m struck by how handsome he is, and I flush slightly and look down.

“Whatever you say, Ace.” His voice is a little low, a little deep, and I suppress a shiver.

It’s been a long day. A long week. Heck, it’s been a long  _ while _ , really, and being with Logan is a temporary reprieve from it all. I want to lean into him, but I resist the urge; it’s stupid, and weird, so instead I finish my drink, which is probably the only reason I want to lean into him in the first place.

Or so I tell myself.

“How are you doing?” Logan asks in a gentle, solemn voice, his eyes studying my face, getting a read on me. I shift a little.

“I’m okay,” I say unconvincingly, and he nods with a little smile.

“Really?”

“Yes,” I say matter-of-factly, twisting to drop my empty cup into the near-overflowing trash can. Paris had better clean all this up. “Thanks for asking- how are  _ you _ doing?”

Logan gives another gentle laugh. “I’m doing great, Ace. At a somewhat middling party, but there’s decent company, so I can’t complain.”

I can’t help but get a little smile, and look sheepishly at his face again. He’s all but beaming at me. “I can’t leave,” I blurt out before I can fully understand the implications of it. “Paris wants this party to be good, and it’s not, and if I leave it’ll be my fault.”

Intrigue enters his pale brown eyes, and a dazzling, debonair smile crosses his face. “Oh, yeah? Where would you wanna go- if you  _ could _ leave?”

He’s toying with me. He’s toying with me, and I know it, and he does that a lot, and I like it. I smile a little wider and shrug again. “I don’t know,” I say gently. “Good company is better in a place less- middling- though, isn’t it?”

“Usually, yes.”

“I just- this isn’t my idea of a  _ break _ , you know? Of a way to let off steam. It’s great, if you’re into parties, I guess- there’s lots of people, and I know most of them, and they’re all pretty alright- but it’s just… This isn’t  _ fun _ to me,” I speak quietly, not wanting to trash Paris’ party to anyone but Logan, who understands, and I know he understands. Because he gets me a lot more than any other guys ever have.

“Right,” he says in a near-whisper, leaning a little bit closer in, and I do the same, and our faces are a little too close and his shoulder is almost touching mine. “What’s your idea of letting off steam?”

“I don’t know,” I say quietly, staring at his pretty eyes. They’re shaped like almonds, and there are tiny flecks of gold in them, and small, darker dots, too. “It used to mean, I don’t know, hanging out with a friend, or my mom, or reading a book, or something. But… I guess I’m a little- different now, and I’m still figuring it out. I mean, I still like those things, of course, but-” I close my eyes and shake my head. I totally ruined the moment. Logan’s hand finds my shoulder and I look down at it, almost shocked, then back up at him to see him smirking a little, deeply amused.

“You should figure that out,” he says softly. “Experiment a little.”

His words are innocent. His implication is entirely nonchalant. But our closeness, the warmth I feel radiating from him- because of  _ me _ , it feels a little naughty. “I could use a little help with that, I think,” I say. My voice is quiet and shaky and foreign to me, full of something I’m not too familiar with hearing from my own voice, and I stand a little straighter.

He catches my meaning, my desire, and his expression changes again. He’s interested, but cautious; he studies my face as if trying to discern something. I let him, staring again into his eyes for a moment before letting my eyes drift to his lips.

I want to kiss him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

But before I can, he pulls back. I clear my throat and turn crimson, hugging myself.

“I’ll make a few calls, see if I can liven up the party a bit. Then, we’ll see about getting out of here-”

“You didn’t kiss me,” I blurt out again. I don’t feel tipsy, but I must be. I turn even redder but look into Logan’s surprised- nearly shocked- eyes.

“What?” He doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that, and suddenly I feel very, very dumb.

I look away. “I thought we were gonna kiss. I just- why not? Why didn’t we? So I… Know how I messed up, or whatever.”

“You didn’t,” He says quietly, trying to be reassuring, but he sounds a little bit amused, which irks me slightly. He laughs gently, still seeming to be adjusting to the fact that I’d asked that.

But I’m tired of not being good enough and not knowing why. I want a reason. I  _ need _ a reason. “Then why?”

“If I’d have kissed you, that would have been the end of it, for now,” he said. “I’d have realized you were too drunk, kissed you, and seen you off to bed. But you’re not too drunk, and I want to- I don’t know- continue this. Continue talking. Maybe kiss later, I don’t know.” He studies my face as it neutralizes. I’m not annoyed anymore, but I do feel even more dumb. “They really must’ve messed you up for you to be this insecure.”

I look up suddenly with a frown, but I can’t bring myself to defend either of them, how they treated me. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“I know you are, Ace. You’re more than fine.” He lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, looking at  _ my _ lips, seeming to be weighing his options.

Then, he leans in. His forehead meets mine before his lips find their destination, and his hand gently rests behind my ear. I kiss him easily, as if this isn’t a first kiss, but a millionth; it comes so naturally to me, so easily, so fluidly. It’s brief but deep; there’s no tongue, but it’s more than a peck. Two, three, four times our lips move against each other, and then, he pulls back to study my face again.

I swallow. That was a good kiss. A perfect first kiss.

“Let me make a few calls, Ace. I’ll be right back.”

I open my mouth but, finding no words, I nod instead. “I’ll- get ready. In my room. I’ll… Be there. When you’re ready to go.”

“Sure thing,” he says with a smirk.


	2. Desire

I’ve changed too many times, and now I sit on my bed with my ankles crossed, staring at my feet through the nylons I put on, and then took off, and then left off, and then put back on. The bourbon is fading and I am far too aware of how silly I am, how dumb I’ve been, the ass that I have made out of myself. The noise has picked up outside, and Logan has not returned. I consider how likely it is that he took the opportunity to ditch me.

He did say that kissing me would be the end. And then he kissed me.

I’m such an idiot.

There’s a rap on the door not a full second before it’s opened, and there Logan stands, grinning. I see Colin in the background, hear Finn’s voice somewhere past him, and I know that Logan has likely pulled out all of the stops to impress all of the uninterested people Paris invited, to keep Paris distracted long enough for her to not notice or care that I’ll be leaving. I smile softly.

“You ready, Ace?”

“I thought you ditched me,” I offer with a small, awkward laugh as I stand and step into my flats.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. What kind of a lowlife do you take me for?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

He laughs heartily as I walk past him, placing a warm hand on the small of my back. “No, no I don’t. Thanks for asking.”

We leave without incident and arrive at Logan’s door all the same. I take a few steps in as he closes the door behind us, studying it as if it’s the first time I’ve seen it despite the fact that it is far from that. I turn to him just as he faces me, and we look at each other almost as if we’re each a puzzle for the other to solve.

I wonder what he would do if I just fell into him, kissed him, asked for him…

Instead, I straighten. “Are we going to experiment here?”

He grins, this one truly holding a more  _ sinister _ implication. “Maybe,” he says.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say, crossing my arms. His smile softens.

“I know, Ace. I’m just teasing.”

“I was just expecting something a little more- grandiose, is all,” I go on, wanting to toy with him like he does me. Logan, sensing a challenge, pauses to grin at me. He looks at me like I’m a wonder, an oddity, something special, and it makes my heart flutter. “I mean, last time, you made me jump off a cliff with you, so. Expectations are just a little high.”

“We can go find something a little more grandiose,” he laughs out, moving towards the door. He’s calling my bluff, and I straighten.

I can’t fall into him if we’re falling off a cliff.

“Well-” I start.

But he’s caught me in my bluff and he wants to rub it in a little- playfully, good naturedly. “I can do spontaneity. Just let me-”

“This is fine,” I say, grabbing his arm as it reaches for the door. He turns to me, feigning cluelessness, waiting for an explanation.

Boys are difficult.

“I’m sure you’re resourceful; I trust you can be spontaneous and grandiose here. Besides, I have class in the morning.”

He grins wider, then motions into the apartment once more. “Glad we got that sorted.”

“So am I,” I say sheepishly and tuck my hair behind my ear. I need to cut it again.

“Drink?” He asks, and I pause.

Do I want another drink? After a moment, I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to be drunk.”

“Fair enough. Water? Soda?”

“Water’s fine, thank you.”

Once he has our drinks- water for me, seemingly bourbon for himself- we sit on the couch, half facing each other, maybe a little bit too close. I want to lean into him- and this time, I do, letting my head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I’m being a little strange today,” I say. I don’t know if it’s weird or not to put my head on his shoulder like this or not, but he certainly doesn’t seem to mind. “I did have a little bit to drink, and I guess I’ve just felt- lost lately. A little too in between places to know what to do with myself.”

“That’s alright,” he says. “But, no, you haven’t been strange.” He pulls me a little closer and I slide into him, and then we’re all but curled up together on the couch. “I get that, being in the middle, not knowing what’s coming but knowing you’ve left behind- what you had.”

A little bittersweetness prickles my chest. “It’s… Weird. College. Growing up. I finally feel like an adult now, but that’s still new, and I don’t really know what to do with that. I’ve been, y’know, just a kid for a while now- forever, actually- and I just… I don’t know what to make of this. Of the woman I’ve become.”

“That’s… Deep, Rory. Thanks for sharing it with me.”

“Thanks for putting up with me. I’m weird tonight.”

Logan laughs again. “You’re not weird,” he says.

I look up at him, intent to insist otherwise, but our eyes meet. “You can pontificate, too, if you want. Existentialism can be my new thing.”

Logan laughs again, setting his forehead against mine. “Thanks.”

The moment from earlier is gone. This is nice, but I can feel the opportunity slip from my hands- I want to kiss him, to lean into him, to hold him and feel him. This is great- I want to do this- but not right now.

_ I’m not that kind of girl _ , that little, horrified voice says in the back of my head, but I dismiss it.  _ What _ kind of girl? The kind that does what she wants, unapologetically? The kind that wants to be happy and free? I am an independent, adult woman, and if I want to have sex with a nice guy who’s been nice to me for God knows how long, I should be able to want that without slut shaming myself in the back of my mind.

I twist in place and then I’m looking up at him, into his eyes and at his handsome face and his smooth, tantalizing lips. The energy between us deepens again, grows alluring. “Look,” I say gently. “I like you, Logan. I think I’ve made that obvious, at least tonight. And I’m not really- I don’t do this, you know? But I don’t care. I want to do- what I want to do. And maybe it’ll go great or maybe I’ll mess it up, but at least I’ll have done it, you know?”

“What do you want to do, Ace?” His voice is low again, and deep, and my heart flutters, and maybe something a bit lower, too.

But I start to clam up again. My eyes settle on his lips. “I don’t want to embarrass myself,” I breathe. I feel his breath on my lips, feel his arm around me, feel his heat on me again. I’ve rekindled the energy.

“Believe me, Rory. You’re not going to.”

“I want- to kiss you. And more, maybe. If… If you want that, too,”

Something in his eyes twists as he studies me, and I know he wants that, too. He looks hungry, and almost as if he doesn’t believe this is happening, but he’s still so composed and confident. He’s absolutely enthralling. “Then kiss me, Ace. This is your rodeo tonight.”

I kiss him, closing my eyes just as our lips meet again. His hands wrap around me and I soon find myself straddling his waist, my arms around his shoulders. I want him to touch me, to smooth his hands over the outfit I’d taken so much care to getting just right, but he seems fixated on keeping them at the base of my spine. We drink from each other for a long time, and it is exactly right.

I don’t know how much time passes before I pull back, breathing heavily, and gaze lustfully at him. I am not ashamed now, but I’m still uncertain. “Please,” I say softly.

“Such a pretty word out of your mouth, Ace,” he mutters, staring at me ravenously. He seems barely composed now, as if he’s hanging onto his composure by a thread.

I lean into him. “Touch me,”

His hands spring into motion as if they’ve been waiting to do my bidding, one slipping under to find its way up my skirt, teasing my skin through the nylon fabric, and the other slides its way up my waist, displacing my shirt, and finding the base of my skull; with a frightening, intoxicating, gentle strength he pulls me into him again and kisses me hungrily. His hand slides down to wrench open my shirt, at once both cautious of my clothes and utterly aggressive in the most delicious of ways. He easily disposes of my bra with a single hand as we drink from one another; I’m surging into him, rocking against his hips, making strange and foreign noises, feeling a fire burning in the pit of my stomach and waves of arousal throbbing in the core of me. He makes little noises, too, harsher and deeper and briefer and much more masculine. Finally, his hand takes my small breast in his and kneads it expertly, switching between breasts, between nipples, tweaking them in his fingers, between his knuckles.

“God, yes,” I moan, grinding against his hand as it slips beneath me to part my folds through my panties and my nylons. “I want you,”

“Yeah?” Logan asks, sounding drunk. “What do you want me to do, Ace?” The arousal on his face almost looks like anger, and it only makes me want him more.

“I want you,” I insist again. “I want you inside of me. I want to feel you, pounding into me-”

“Fuck,” he growls, freeing both hands to grab my hips and grind the core of me into the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, Rory.”

“Your bed,” I say, and he nods, lifting me up as if I weigh nothing at all. He carries me to his bedroom and all but throws me on the bed; I recover as I watch him undress, stare at his athletic body, his hungry eyes, his solemn face. After a moment, I begin to slide coquettishly out of my own clothes, trying to be as alluring as possible. His eyes devour every inch of my skin as it’s revealed to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says in a deeply sincere voice. I swallow and shiver.

“So are you,” I say, and gaze at him. He cocks a smile as he moves onto the bed, gently setting my leg to the side, slowly moving his hand up it. “Stop teasing me,” I whisper. “For tonight.”

He smirks. “I like to tease,”

“We can experiment next time,” I say quietly. “I have class in the morning.”

He sighs good-naturedly. “Alright. I’m sure we don’t need it, anyway…” His fingers find my slit and stroke the thick fluids that signify my arousal. I moan at the sudden attention, and his eyes grow wolfish once more.

“God, Logan.  _ Please _ .”

He adjusts himself, getting into position. “Feel free to beg, Ace. You look so cute when you’re needy.”

I smile and flush and look away. “Pushing your luck,”

“Oh, am I?” Logan laughs. “I could leave you to sort this out on your own-”

“No,” I say. “I want you. Please, Logan. I  _ need _ you to fuck me.”

He shivers against the warm air and peppers my face in kisses before kissing me deeply for a few long moments. I feel the head of him at my entrance and wiggle my hips in anticipation; he growls his approval. “Such a good girl,”

“Mmm…”

He pushes inside of me easily, though he feels frighteningly thick, surprisingly big. I moan loudly and shudder as my walls reluctantly allow him in, tightening and rolling against him. He groans, too, peppering my face with kisses again.

“Oh, yeah,” I whimper.

“So fucking tight,” he grinds out, moving his hips a little before properly pulling out and thrusting back inside. I shudder and moan, feeling his body against mine, his arms around me. I feel safe and sweet and small and absolutely on fire; I want him to fuck me hard and long and absolutely never stop. “God, Ace. So perfect.”

“Harder,” I whimper as he picks up the pace. “Please- Logan, please,”

I continue to beg mindlessly as he takes me, kissing me and touching me and holding me. I can’t think about anything other than how much I need him; all I feel is hunger and pleasure and a deep, deep yearning to climax. I don’t know how long he makes love to me, but it seems to last an eternity; an eternity that is cut horribly short as our bodies move towards their climaxes at similar paces. My orgasm starts first, and his ends last.

We’re spent after that. He collapses next to me and pulls me into him, and I lay there, overwhelmed with an odd and beautiful contentment I’ve never felt before.

We’re both asleep shortly thereafter.

I sleep through my first two alarms, and I’m almost late for class.

It was perfect. Entirely perfect.


End file.
